


Awakening

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, Fantasy, M/M, Magical Realism, Memory Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: While visiting Kuroo's cabin in the mountains, Kenma goes exploring and discovers memories from his childhood that he'd long forgotten, along with a dangerous entity - and a mystery that has lain dormant for years.





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterhoursfiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterhoursfiction/gifts).



> This is my Haikyuu Secret Santa fic for [Seth](http://lusethxii.tumblr.com/) who is awesome and amazing. I hope you like it!
> 
> It was betaed by the amazing Avery (@Foxyena), Snow (@Sondeneige), and Kristin <3 who are wonderful and supportive. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

There was a rhythm to a road.

On some roads, it was barely perceptible. On some roads, he had to go slow and it was just a crunch of tires on rock and gravel. On other roads, the rhythm was made up of light - street lights flashing overhead or the pulse of reflectors on mountain guardrails. Kenma liked the rhythm of roads. 

Roads didn’t expect anything.

Roads would take his silence and give him back something smooth and predictable, broken only by the flashing headlight of a passing car. He normally didn’t really like driving; the busy roads of the city made any travel in an automobile more of a headache than it was worth. In summer, the sun was too bright and the air conditioner never really did get things cool enough - or really, it was too hot where the sun shone down on him and too cold where the air blew onto his skin. 

When Kuroo had asked him to drive up to his cabin in the woods, at first he had thought about backing out. But Kuroo was his best friend, and best friends were worth a bit of trouble.

Besides, it wasn’t summer. It was closer to the far end of fall, with nights dipping down below freezing even in the city. 

Here in the car, it was warm. The heater worked more reliably than the air conditioning, and there was no sun. There was only the moon, glimpsed through the trees as he drove the switchback of roads up the mountain to Kuroo’s address, a silent accompaniment to the night drive.

A soft chime alerted him to the fact that he was close to the turnoff for the cabin itself. Slowing to a crawl, he watched until he saw the short sign marked with Kuroo’s family seal next to a road entrance. Turning up the road, he made his way over the gravel-coated drive up toward the cabin. 

He hadn’t been there in years. Not since they were kids. Even then, it was just for a short while during a few summers, when Kuroo had talked his dad into letting Kenma come up to stay. He didn’t remember much.

Just that it had been nice, quiet. He remembered the smell of the woods, the way Kuroo hadn’t minded him escaping into the quiet, how safe he’d grow to feel as the days grew on and the trees shaded him from the worst of the heat -

And then he’d had to leave.

His last time here had been the year before Kuroo started junior high. Kenma wasn’t quite sure why. The month or so after he got home from the trip was a bit of a blur, and Kuroo didn’t like talking about it. Kenma had been dealing with... something. A sprained wrist? A broken leg? He could never quite remember what, just remembered being laid up in bed the last few weeks of the summer, with Kuroo buying him a new game and apologizing that he couldn’t bring him his schoolwork.

It all felt so long ago.

Still, there was the big tree on the small hill out in front of the Kuroo’s cabin, with its thick trunk and branches that spread over to shade the deck on the second story. There was the cabin itself, more rustic than he remembered. Kenma slowed the car to a crawl as he looked around, waiting for something to trigger a cascade of memories. Nothing. Ah, but there was Kuroo’s -

A sudden flash of white in front of the car made him slam on the breaks, eyes going wide as he saw a giant owl pull up in front of his windshield, wings spread wide. His heart stopped, terrified suddenly that it would be able to fly through the glass and -

And then it was gone.

Heart pounding in his ears, he barely registered the familiar yell of Kuroo’s voice and the sound of his feet running across the lawn. The hand banging at his window got his attention though, and he looked up into Kuroo’s worried face, ungripping his hands from the wheel long enough to press the button to lower the window.

“Kenma? Kenma are you ok? I heard the horn honking, and then you were just...”

Horn. He’d honked the horn?

Kenma frowned, eyes widening again as he accidentally took his foot off the brake and felt the car lurch forward. 

“Damnit,” he muttered, shifting the car into park. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine! You -”

“Am so.”

“Are not!”

“Am so!”

“Are not! Ugh -”

The old familiar banter chased the shadow of disquiet from Kenma’s heart, and he ducked his head to hide a smile. “I am, Kuro. It was just - there was an owl that swooped down is all, surprised me. It probably got attracted by my headlights or something.”

Even as he said the words, they rang false to him. He knew deer would sometimes dart out in front of cars even though they saw the headlights, but he’d never heard of that happening with owls. Still, any explanation was better than none.

“An owl?” Kuroo asked, frowning as he glanced over at the large tree. “Are you - wait, of course you’re sure, you’re Kenma.”

Kenma gave him a look, watching worry change to a deep chagrin. It helped settle him even further, made him huff with laughter. “Sorry for worrying you,” he said. “I should probably go on and park though. Want a ride?”

Chuckling softly, Kuroo shook his head and backed up from the car. “I’ll be over to help you carry your things, though. Don’t worry.”

Just seeing the smile on Kuroo’s face warmed Kenma’s heart, made him realize how much he’d missed his friend. Kuroo had been living up here at his family’s cabin for the past couple of years working on his dissertation. Kenma didn’t really understand it all - some esoteric math and science mumbo-jumbo about the stars and their resonant makeups - but he appreciated how passionate Kuroo was about the subject. Kenma, on the other hand, didn’t feel passionate about much in his life. 

Even video games had felt less than intriguing lately.

He was good at his job, he took care of his duties to his family, he spent time with his friends. Watched his friends struggle to accomplish their dreams, find lovers, start families. He couldn’t even go through the motions for half those things, though. 

It all just seemed so boring.

He’d been talking to Kuroo about a fight he’d had with Shouyou when the other had invited him up. 

For a break, Kuroo had said.

Kenma found that he needed a break.

As he ducked out of the car, Kenma looked around, half-expecting a raptor to swoop down out of the air and try to take off his head. The night sky was empty of birds, however, and full of the crystal crispness that was only found in winter in the mountains. 

“How much did you bring?” Kuroo asked, rubbing his hands together. He looked cold. Kenma saw that he was only wearing sleeping pants and a t-shirt. House slippers adorned his feet, made Kenma want to laugh again. He pulled up short, however, realizing that Kuroo had rushed out of the house because of worry over him. 

Shrugging in mild embarrassment, Kenma said, “Not much. A suitcase and the computer bag. I travel light.”

“I’m amazed that you even own a suitcase,” Kuroo said, waiting as Kenma opened the trunk. 

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” answered Kenma, steeling his face for what Kuroo’s reaction would be when he saw Fukunaga’s name written on the side of the bag in Kenma’s trunk. 

It was only a low laugh, not the loud donkey bray Kenma had been worried about. Perhaps Kuroo didn’t like the idea of shattering the night air with sound. Kuroo’s eyes danced as he picked up the red bag, pulling it behind himself as Kenma followed, computer bag in hand.

“How is Fukunaga these days?” Kuroo asked. “Still flirting with that director?”

“More than flirting,” said Kenma, glancing around again before they climbed rickety steps to the cabin door. “There was a bit of drama from Ennoshita’s studio when they went public with everything. But overall Fukunaga is happy, and his family is relatively understanding. His mother brought us hot pot last week, said she’d always figured he was gay, just assumed it was with me.”

“You and Fuku -” Kuroo started, laughing again as he turned to look at Kenma.

It wasn’t an altogether impossible proposition, really. Not the way Kuroo seemed to be implying. It was just that - well - yes, perhaps it actually was. The thought coiled in Kenma’s stomach, made him realize again how separate he felt from the normal everyday lives of his friends. Swallowing, he pushed past Kuroo, shucking off his shoes in the entryway and finding a pair of slippers that would fit his feet. 

Kuroo was silent as they both padded into the den of the cabin.

“Anyway, he’s happy,” Kenma murmured, letting his computer bag rest against the couch and curling his hands around his arms even though the room was anything but cold. 

Nodding, Kuroo set the suitcase next to the stairs. “I’m glad,” he said, giving Kenma an apologetic look. “Do you want to come to the kitchen? I have an apple pie warmed up. Don’t worry, I bought it in the village; I didn’t try to cook.”

“Small favors,” Kenma said, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up in the coat closet. He wasn’t actually angry, though, so he followed Kuroo to the kitchen. The smell of food reminded him of the fact that he’d eaten nothing but a convenience store bento on the drive up. Apple pie wasn’t exactly the most nutritious of meals, but it felt warm and comforting in his stomach, and Kuroo’s soft banter was carefully crafted to not dig at any of Kenma’s entirely inadequate defenses. He was grateful for that. 

He was grateful too that Kuroo seemed to be happy here, if a bit lonely. That was only to be expected, however. Kuroo had always loved being around people. To tell the truth, Kenma was almost surprised that he was surviving solitude as well as he was.

When he mentioned as much, Kuroo just shook his head, looking to the side. 

“You can talk to a lot of people on the internet these days,” he said.

The words didn’t ring quite true to Kenma’s ears, but he didn’t question them. After all, it had been a couple of years since he’d spent much time in Kuroo’s company. Perhaps his best friend had matured in ways Kenma didn’t quite grasp. Perhaps it was something else.

It didn’t matter.

Kuroo could have his secrets. Kenma had a few of his own, after all. But secrets didn’t matter. Kenma didn’t need to know everything about Kuroo to know he was glad that Kuroo was happy, and that was what did matter.

That, and the fact that Kuroo had remembered exactly how he liked his apple pie.

~~~~~~

When he went to sleep that night, Kenma dreamed of moss and leaves crunching underfoot. Smells like colors drifted past his nose, and he slid up tree trunks, chasing glimmering heartbeats that thrummed in the depths of crackling branches before spinning away out of reach. It provided more amusement than frustration, though.

Here in dreams, he was happy.

Here in dreams, he felt alive.

He jumped from one branch to another, feeling pulled toward the edges of where he knew he could go. Danger lay just on the other side of this copse of trees. Desire was stronger than fear this night, however, and so he let himself go, following the shimmering twin lights of silver and green, even as he felt caught in a web that tried to bind him back into a body.

Voices carried across the rift as he struggled.

“It’s only a human man,” said one voice, deep and somehow feathery. “Blond.”

“Of course it is,” came another voice, sarcastic and also sad. 

“The other one wasn’t human,” the first replied. “And he didn’t stay long.”

“That’s true,” said the second, subdued. “You didn’t have to scare him, though. If it’s only a human -”

“Yeah, I know. It was weird though, he felt -”

“What?”

“Familiar somehow.” 

Kenma strained, wishing he could see the owner of that second voice. It sounded warm and curious, and also quite delicious. If he could only just -

The web snapped into place, making him snarl and gnash his teeth, closing them on nothing but leaves and whispers of air. He was locked away from those shimmering lights, however. Soon a familiar low melody stole his attention, calling him back toward the heart of his own forest and calming his rage.

Rage. It was such a strange thing to feel, even in dreams.

Almost unnatural.

After all, here he had all that he could ever want - food, and tricks, and games a plenty. A cozy den, clean and clear water to drink, and the taste of fear in the air when he went out hunting. And then there was the song that was always and never the same, beating in the air like an echo of his own heart. It was good, and enough, and drew him deeper into the woods, away from the edges and a conversation that was already fraying away to nothingness in his mind.

What were words when he had a whole world, after all.

Even if the world was bounded.

~~~~~

When Kenma opened his eyes, he imagined he tasted something salty in his mouth, something with a coppery tang.

The impression fled as soon as he was conscious enough to question it, chased away like mist recoiling from the light of the morning sun. Fragments of dreams tried to hover in his mind, but they too slid past his grasp. 

Turning over, he picked up his phone, checking the time. It was later than he normally woke. He was almost surprised that Kuroo had let him sleep this long, then wondered what had pulled him from sleep. A sound of clattering tiles outside his window answered that question.

Scrunching up his nose he rolled out of bed and shuffled out to the bathroom, getting ready and going downstairs to see Kuroo sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in hand.

“What’s going on?” Kenma asked.

“Eh?” asked Kuroo, looking up from a large book laid out in front of him. It contained diagrams that looked like star charts. “Oh. Uh, there are a couple of guys working on the garden out back. Did they wake you? Normally they’re pretty quiet, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” replied Kenma, walking over to the window over the sink that looked out on the yard. He only vaguely remembered the garden, full of plants that Kuroo’s father had tended with more love than he’d ever shown the human members of his family. It had been a pretty thing, however. 

But he’d never seen it in winter before. Instead of being verdant and colorful, it seemed barren. Well, of course it would be. It seemed foolish that he had expected the same brilliant greens and vibrant colors when he looked out the window. Now, all he saw brown, with low bushy shapes of dark green frosted over and interrupted by piles of building materials and wood. There were a few ornamental statues and stone lanterns as well, but it still felt oddly lifeless.

In contrast, the woods beyond felt much more alive.

He couldn’t say exactly why he felt that way. Perhaps it was the evergreen trees or the way the branches swayed in the wind. Maybe it was a holdover from his dream or could be blamed by the nature documentaries that Tora and Tanaka watched when he visited them. Whatever it was, it made him feel drawn to the woods. He could remember exploring them as a child, how much he’d enjoyed it. 

That was odd, he’d never enjoyed hiking or camping in the years since he’d left. Being out in nature normally gave him a strange sense of dread, his mind coming up with all of the reasons why he’d rather stay safe at home with a game in his hand. If it wasn’t the heat or cold then it was the insects that might sting him, the stones that might trip him, or the plants that might irritate his skin. There were no insects alive right now, however, and it wasn’t all that cold. Besides, he’d been wanting a change of scenery. If he stayed cooped up in the house all day -

“I hope you don’t mind,” Kuroo said, “but I’m going to have to spend the morning working. I have a colleague sending me some data from their observations and he wants to review the findings to make sure we’re both on the same page. I should be free by lunch, though - is that alright?”

Kenma nodded. A part of him felt disappointed. He was looking forward to spending time with Kuroo. Still, it also felt normal - as often as they spent time together in Tokyo when going to school, here at the cabin they had often tended to keep more to themselves. 

Kuroo’s father had always pulled him aside to teach him about the garden or the observatory on top of the house, sometimes droning on for hours in the large library on the bottom floor. Kenma knew he should like the elder Kuroo, but there was always something in his gaze that made him slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he was judgemental or rude, it was just... he was odd. Unsettling.

He hoped that Kuroo never developed that same strange air, like he was always looking at something just beyond what was present.

Right now, he was focused on something very much present but very much boring, at least as far as Kenma was concerned. It was hard for him to muster enthusiasm for the stars and planets, as beautiful as celestial objects might be in false-color images. 

“I think I may go exploring,” he murmured.

Kuroo nodded. “Just be careful,” he said, glancing up only briefly. “Ah, and stick to the grounds of the cabin and yard. I have a new neighbor who is a bit particular about trespassing, it seems.”

Nodding absentmindedly, Kenma trailed his fingers over the handle of the refrigerator before deciding he wasn’t hungry. His stomach wasn’t awake enough to eat, maybe. Maybe he just already felt full.

Kuroo was already engrossed in his work, so he didn’t seem to notice when Kenma slipped out of the kitchen and walked to the front door, putting his shoes on before heading outside. 

It was chilly.

Momentarily, Kenma thought about going back and getting a coat. He could already feel the edges of cold nipping against his skin, but well -

Maybe if it got to be too much.

He paused a moment on Kuroo’s front porch after wandering over toward the garden, watching one of the workers. He was tall, with wiry curls of green hair -

No, black hair, that was strange -

The man turned and looked at him, and again Kenma had the sense of green wash over him before he saw him properly. Black hair, brown eyes. Handsome, in a way that washed right over Kenma’s attention. Too cool, too sharp, too something. 

A loud clattering behind him had him jump, bumping his hip on the wooden railing as he turned around.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry!” said the man standing in the yard next to him.

Tall.

Big.

Loud.

“It’s fine,” Kenma murmured, fingers curling into the wooden rail as he fought the urge to duck his head. For a moment, it reminded him of the night before, when the owl had swooped down on him, making his heart want to jump out of his chest.

This man didn’t seem menacing though, not really.

Well, not at the moment anyway.

“Uh, yeah. I - Tetsu’s always inside so I don't really worry about being too clumsy, and I didn’t know you’d be awake so early -”

“Tetsu?” Kenma asked, brow furrowing. “Oh. Kuro. He said you were normally quiet.”

The man laughed, grinning widely. “Quiet, huh? Well, ok.”

There was something captivating about the man’s eyes.

Golden, they were as golden as Kenma’s own.

His face was too wide to be traditionally handsome, and his hair was a wild mess of black and silver spikes. He was big, a tight t-shirt showing off muscles that were earned honestly through hard work. And the rest of him -

Kenma turned away, feeling heat pool in his cheeks. He didn’t react this way. Ever, really. It was just stress, and - maybe he really did need a break. Impolite, he was being impolite and he knew it. Swallowing, he tried to think of something polite to say. Words. He was supposed to know words.

“Uh, I’m Bokuto by the way! Or Koutarou if you want, ah, I don't mind. We’re pretty relaxed up here.”

 _Koutarou_.

The word tasted like a bird’s call in Kenma’s mouth, and he swallowed it back, gaze drifting again to the woods.

“I’m Kenma,” he said instead. 

“Nice to meet you, Kenma!” said the man. Bokuto. “Oh! Wait! Kenma, Kenma - Kenma?”

There was some spark of recognition in Bokuto’s voice that made Kenma turn, locking eyes with him. Maybe - Kuroo had probably just told them about him if they were close enough to be on a first name basis. Or something -

Bokuto’s eyes sharpened, and he studied Kenma, pursing his lips for just a moment before a smile slid back on his face. “Nice to meet you! Tetsu said you would be coming.”

It felt true but not - quite - Kenma didn’t know. He just nodded, turning back to the woods and trying to ignore the prickle that crawled up the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m just going to wander around some. I won’t be in your way.”

“Ah - alright. Kenma.”

The sound of his name in that voice made Kenma whip his head around again, but this time Bokuto was frowning down at his wheelbarrow, lips moving as he muttered to himself.

Nothing. It was nothing. Kenma didn’t know why his heart was beating so loud in his chest, why he suddenly wanted to run down the steps and toward the woods to get away. He never ran. Not by choice. And it wasn’t as if -

The gaze of the green man was on him again, making him feel pushed on both sides. It was nothing, though, really, nothing, nothing at all. They were just local workers. Who happened to be on a first-name basis with Kuroo. Kuroo trusted them. They were fine.

Taking a deep breath, Kenma carefully collected himself, rubbing his hands on his jeans and forcing himself to walk over to the stairs that led down into the garden. He felt like every move he made was being watched. That was probably a foolish thought. The workers had better things to do with their time than watch him, after all. He could hear them moving around, heard the sound of brick on brick, the metallic rasp of a rake over sand. He bit his bottom lip and watched the pebbles as they passed underfoot, glancing up along the path as it wound closer to the woods. 

The woods.

The green, green woods.

He brushed his fingers over the round stone of the gate that led out into the yard, exhaling. There was a low ridge next to a dip between the edge of Kuroo’s lawn and the forest beyond. He remembered it. Remembered that sometimes a creek ran there in the summer, a tiny thing just a few handspans across. He smiled, remembering laughter and splashing water and a girl’s bright eyes -

“Hey! You shouldn’t - careful!”

The loud voice shocked Kenma enough that he lost his balance, turning to try and catch himself as he slid over the edge. A shock ran through his body and he tumbled, hitting his thigh on a rock and finally landing on the other side of the stream. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him, and he blinked, dazed, looking up to where the man who had shouted stood on the top of the rise above him.

Bokuto.

A part of Kenma’s mind wondered why the man wasn’t rushing down to help him out. It looked like he wanted to. His hands were twitching, and there was real worry on his face, clear as day.

Worry, and - 

Fear.

Bokuto’s mouth opened. “Uh, are you ok?”

Furrowing his brow, Kenma considered the question.

He was breathing. That had started happening again without him noticing, which wasn’t that surprising considering that he didn’t normally notice when he was or wasn’t breathing. He hadn’t hit his head. He could move his toes and his fingers. There were little aches and pains from the places he had bumped himself in the fall, but it wasn’t bad.

“Yes,” he said, turning to look again at the woods. There was a break in the trees, and it looked dark and cool beneath the canopy. 

It hadn’t been a bad fall, not really.

The man was talking to him again.

“... and you aren’t that close, good. Just uh, if you can make it across the stream I’ll help you up and back to the house, ah, hey, no, you should really -”

There was a patch of bark that had been worn away on the tree closest to him. The wood was darker underneath as if it had been singed. Kenma remembered a hand curling around just under that piece of bark, a pair of green eyes looking back at him, daring him to follow. 

He smiled.

He stood, pressing his hand to the singed place, trying to recapture the rest of the memory. 

“Wait,” he heard behind him, along with a scrambling of dirt and rock. “You really can’t - you shouldn’t -”

“It’s fine,” Kenma murmured, feeling a bit in a daze as he walked forward beneath the trees to chase a memory. 

A big hand caught his shoulder. “No, really, Kenma - really, this isn’t a good place to be.”

Kenma frowned, looking between Bokuto and his hand. He wasn’t used to people touching him.

Strange. He’d been so nervous before when Bokuto had stood feet away. Now, though, he felt -

“Bokuto,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes. “Let me go.”

The man frowned, almost pouting as he looked around at the woods. “But - but it’s not safe to be in here.”

Huffing, Kenma glared at him, finally cowing him into dropping his hand. “It’s fine,” he said, looking around. “I’ve been here before.”

“You have?”

“Of course,” said Kenma, distracted again by the hint of a path between the trees. “Haven’t you?”

It felt true. Right, like a ball setting into a groove. Letting the question of why he felt that way flow through his mind and away he started into the woods, barely recognizing the fact that Bokuto was following. His presence felt almost natural. But something - something felt off.

He was too quiet.

The woods were too quiet as well.

Cocking his head, Kenma looked up at the trees. The birds, there were no birds - but maybe that was because it was almost winter.

“I don’t remember,” Bokuto mumbled. 

That caught Kenma’s attention and he turned, looking up into the face of the taller man. Bokuto looked lost, shoulders hunched as he looked around, one hand splayed out like he wanted to reach out to Kenma for comfort.

“You look like a kid,” Kenma murmured.

“Eh?” Bokuto said, standing up straight and puffing out his cheeks. “What no! I’m a grown man! I haven’t been a kid for uh - a long time!”

It made Kenma want to smile, though he resisted the notion for the most part. Strange. There was something familiar about Bokuto’s boisterous voice, the wildness of his hair in the forest. Normally Kenma wasn’t fond of loud people. In the silence of the forest, though, it wasn’t, well. 

It wasn’t bad.

“So why were you so worried?” Kenma asked, turning away before his mind could go any further down that road. He could see the path more clearly now. There, he knew that rock, though the tree growing up next to it was bigger than he remembered. He brushed his fingers over the slick bark, then traced over a dark streak in the rock’s grainy surface. There was a crack that wasn’t supposed to be there. He saw a flower growing inside, in a small patch of mossy dirt.

“You don’t know?” Bokuto asked, stepping close. “Well, of course, you don’t, you wouldn’t, you’re only...”

“Only?”

“Er!” replied Bokuto, looking away and scratching the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “I mean, you’re a stranger, right? You’ve never been here before, right?”

“I told you I have,” said Kenma, making a face before moving on. 

“But -”

“But what?” asked Kenma, glancing back before he clambered up the rock and started down the trail.

He heard Bokuto climb up behind him, breathing heavily. “But I don’t remember you,” replied Bokuto.

“Why would you remember me?” Kenma asked, giving him a look. It had only been him and Kuroo here at the house, from what he remembered. Though -

A girl, with eyes warm and brown and sly.

And other eyes, flashing green over a sharp smile -

Kenma shook his head, wondering where the memories had come from. 

“I would have remembered you,” Bokuto said, voice wistful. 

It made Kenma feel strange inside, almost sad. He saw a shadow cross the path in front of him, but when he looked up, he saw nothing but the trees. 

“Well, maybe you were away when I came up. It was only for a few weeks in the summer when I came up to visit Kuro. Maybe you’re older than me?”

“Still, I should remember you.”

Bokuto’s voice was muted. It made Kenma want to turn and take his hand, make him feel better.

But Kenma hadn’t taken someone’s hand in his life, and the analytical part of his brain was reminding him that he was walking alone in the woods with a stranger, even if the stranger claimed to know Kuro.

He had a hard time thinking of Bokuto as a stranger.

“I don’t remember you either,” Kenma admitted instead. “But then, there’s a lot I don’t remember. I was just a kid though, so it’s normal, right?”

“I remember - hey, look out!”

Bokuto pulled him back with strong hands, making Kenma’s heart beat fast at how easily Bokuto manhandled him. The hands were gentle though, not rough. 

“What was that for?” Kenma asked, scowling.

“I thought I saw - look there!”

There was a pawprint on the path before them, in a patch of mud. It was big. Four toes, with indentations for claws. Shaking Bokuto off Kenma crouched down, spreading his hand out to measure the size of the print.

It was only a bit smaller than his stretched out fingers.

“That’s fresh, Kenma,” Bokuto hissed, trying to tug him up. “It could be close, we really need to -”

“Did it rain last night?” Kenma asked, tilting his head to the side. He didn’t remember rain. The path hadn’t been wet either, and there hadn’t been any water in the little creekbed. 

“What?” Bokuto whispered, fingers curling around Kenma’s arm in a way that should have been off-putting but wasn’t. “Come on, who cares, Kenma, it’s - it could be in those bushes right there, watching us! Don’t be scared though, I’ll protect you!”

Now, that was off-putting. 

“It’s not,” Kenma said, shaking Bokuto off again. “I’m just - come on, stop being such a wimp.”

“Wimp?” Bokuto asked, offended. “I’ll have you know I - besides, why aren’t you scared? I mean, you’re only human, that thing could tear you -”

“It’s just a cat,” Kenma murmured, moving forward toward the bushes and the large hill they grew against. “It’s probably more scared of us than we are of it, anyways. Most wild things are unless you get in their territory or threaten their young, right?”

“But - but this is its territory,” Bokuto whispered.

Objectively, Kenma knew that Bokuto’s fear made more sense than his lack thereof, but he couldn’t explain it. He was more distracted by how familiar this all felt. If he pushed aside this branch - yes, there was the rock with the sun scratched into it, and the patch of sand where he’d traced Kanji, showing it to - huh. Showing it to someone. He didn’t remember, just remembered questions and curiosity and the cave that was right past this tree. 

“What are you doing?” Bokuto hissed, arm sliding around Kenma’s waist. “You can’t go in there! What if that’s its lair? What if he’s waiting for you! I can’t fly us out of there if -”

“Fly?” Kenma asked, looking up into a very guilty face. 

“Er, that is, I mean - it’s a figure of speech?”

It was not, as far as Kenma knew, a figure of speech. It was also a bit annoying how Bokuto kept putting his hands on him. Or well, it should have been. The only reason it wasn’t was probably because Bokuto was warm and mildly attractive and Kenma wasn’t used to big men taking liberties with his body.

Well, not these type of liberties, and that not often and not until after he’d drunk copious amounts of alcohol.

Huffing, Kenma slid his hand over Bokuto’s and peeled the thick arm away from his body. “It will be fine, Bokuto,” he murmured, squeezing the man’s hand before moving forward to the cave entrance. Or hmm. It wasn’t exactly a cave. The opening was too even, looking almost carved out. He could see a faint glimmer of light inside as well, though it was dark enough a few meters in that he pulled out his phone to use the flashlight.

“Do you normally fly places, Bokuto?” Kenma teased softly, shining the light on the cave floor in front of him. It was oddly clean, free of the spiderwebs he would’ve expected in a place like this. There were a few small rocks and bones to the side, probably left over from some animal. Shining his light to the side he saw dried grass and some bigger stones that might have indeed indicated an animal’s lair, but he didn’t see anything there now. 

Bokuto didn’t reply.

That bothered Kenma a bit. He worried that he might’ve upset the other man somehow, provoked him. He’d seen Kuroo go too far with his words before and upset people that he’d just meant to annoy. That wasn’t what he’d meant to do, really, but it reminded him that he didn’t really even know this man, even if he felt -

Comfortable. Bokuto made him feel comfortable.

Making a face at that thought, Kenma almost didn’t notice the sound of water.

“I wonder if that’s where the mud came from,” he murmured. 

“Eh?” asked Bokuto, stepping closer as Kenma moved toward the tunnel at the back of the cave.

“A spring,” said Kenma. “Can’t you hear it? It’s just around -”

This time when Bokuto caught him, it didn’t phase Kenma at all. He was too busy being blindsided by memory.

The past. This cave. This spring, lit by pale blue light, a boy and a girl and Kenma and a dare. A promise. Blood spilled from a cut in the palm of his hand, a rod, a race to scramble to the top of the hill with the rod in his hand and then -

“Thunder,” Kenma murmured.

Bokuto didn’t reply.

Not that there was really anything for him to reply to but -

Kenma blinked, and the past fell away like mist to reveal why the man behind him was so tense. The cavern wasn’t like he remembered it, not exactly. Most telling was the wide crack in the cavern ceiling that was letting in the sunlight. That, Kenma was relatively sure, had not been there before.

Neither had the huge cat that was currently curled up against the back of the cavern, resting heavily on - “Is that a person?” Kenma asked.

“Two people,” whispered Bokuto, rolling his shoulders. 

There was a rush of sound that Kenma didn’t understand and barely processed as he realized that yes, indeed - there were two people lying on the ground near the cat. One was half-covered by the cat’s large dark paw, but Kenma could make out long brown hair in a tangle falling from their head. The other was obscured by the cat’s long thick tail, but as it flicked in the air Kenma could see shorter hair and delicate fingers curled around a wooden harp.

He’d never seen a harp before - had he? 

It wasn’t -

“Ok, be very quiet,” Bokuto said, pulling Kenma’s attention away from the fact that there were a giant cat and two people on the other side of the cavern and to the fact that there was a pair of large brown and white wings curling around him. “You’re not very heavy, so if you’re still, I bet I can fly us out before it wakes up. Just -”

“You’ll drop me again,” Kenma mumbled, leaning back and staring up at the sky as more memories tumbled down.

The ground shifting beneath his feet as he won, jabbing his rod in one of the openings on top of the hill while the two other kids yelled out in defeat. Another boy, the boy with wings, their best friend -

“You tried to catch me,” Kenma said, remembering the hand curling around his wrist as the ground had fallen away. “But it was pulling me down, it tore me - it was too much - but then we were free for a moment until I slipped -”

It wasn’t fair to say that Bokuto had dropped him.

It was the blood that had probably done it. The blood from his palm, the cut reopened as he was pulled down, pulled apart. Left powerless, merely human.

“I fell in the pool,” Kenma murmured, blinking at the winter sky. He remembered pain. He remembered feeling empty and cold.

He remembered Bokuto.

“I remember you.”

Bokuto blinked down at him uncomprehendingly. It was obvious that whatever had returned Kenma’s memories had left Bokuto empty. 

A low rumbling sound filled the cavern.

Behind him, Bokuto stiffened. “Ok just trust me ok, Kenma, I promise I won’t drop you, you’ll be fine just - ah - Akaashi?”

Kenma looked over at the cat.

It was awake now, golden eyes shining in the shadows. Kenma could feel the malice dripping off of its mottled fur. Its eyes, though - its eyes, they felt so familiar. Almost like he had seen them before. It turned its gaze on Bokuto, lips pulling back to show fangs as it yawned, standing up so that its haunches brushed the top of the cavern.

Realistically, Kenma knew he should be afraid. There was a three-meter-tall wildcat only a handful of meters from him, with two bodies at its feet. Obviously, it was dangerous, because - wait.

Not bodies.

“Why do I know that name?” Bokuto murmured, hands tightening on Kenma’s arms. “Why do I know - Akaashi -”

The cat’s tail moved, revealing the figure with the harp. Curly black hair, high cheekbones - cheekbones that might have once belonged to a boy with challenging green eyes. And the other -

“Ah,” Kenma said. “Yukie.”

“Yukie?” Bokuto asked, voice incredulous. “Yukie, Yukie - ah! The princess!”

Well, Kenma didn’t remember that part by any stretch of the imagination. He just had memories of a girl who could outrun and outeat most everyone else, except when Kenma or Akaashi played dirty. 

He’d never seen her so still before, but he knew she was still alive. Her chest was rising in a shallow rhythm like she was merely asleep. Asleep with a giant cat standing guard above her.

“I think it’s alright,” Kenma said. “I think if we just approach it carefully so that it knows we aren’t a threat -”

“Why would we - oh - right.”

Akaashi. Yukie.

And something more, nagging at the back of Kenma’s mind.

Bokuto reluctantly let him go, and Kenma raised a hand, catching the eyes of the big cat as he moved closer. It snarled at him but didn’t move, just shifted so that its claws scraped against the ground. It was fine, it would be fine, just a little bit -

“Kenma!”

All of a sudden it was anything but fine.

The cat roared and leaped forward, claws glinting in the sunlight. Kenma jumped back. His feet didn’t hit the ground though - instead, he was airborne, with arms curled around his stomach keeping him aloft. The cat jumped, but they were gone and through the crack in the roof before Kenma could even put together what happened. 

Then he was scrambling, twisting in Bokuto’s arms because -

“Kuro! That was Kuro’s voice! Kuro’s down there!”

Bokuto just squeezed him tighter as they hovered above the hill. “Tetsu can take care of himself.”

Take care of himself?

Kenma watched as lights flashed in the crack in the rocks beneath him. He hit Bokuto’s arm, managing to get him to set them down on the top of the hill so Kenma could try and get a look inside. There were vines growing up the rocks, and the cat was yowling inside, sounding angrier by the minute.

“Where’s Kuro?” Kenma asked, frowning as he leaned over, looking down into the depths below. “Is that his - did he do the vines?”

“Eh?” said Bokuto. “No, that’s Issei. They must’ve come together - maybe they figured out you ran into the forest?”

“Me?” Kenma asked. Well, actually, that was fair. 

“Tetsu’s the one who told us never to go into the forest. He said there was something bad - well he didn’t say bad, but basically, uh -”

“Dangerous?” 

“Yeah,” said Bokuto. “Wait, how did you know?”

How did he know?

He knew because he knew Kuroo. Knew because the cat wasn’t bad, it was just - there was something missing. He almost felt sorry for it, listening to the yowls quiet down, an edge of frustration in its voice. Had Kuroo stopped it somehow? Or that Issei person, whoever that was. He felt hollow inside, listening to its tone turn plaintive, like it wanted something, needed something.

It was a familiar feeling.

A pile of stones next to him distracted him from that thought, and he turned to study it, trying to piece together why it seemed too familiar.

“Put me down,” Kenma said, walking over and studying the stones.

“Kenma!”

That was Kuroo again, climbing up the side of the mountain with the green man behind him. 

“Hey, Kuro,” Kenma said, steeling himself against the look on Kuroo’s face.

“What are you doing? I told you not to go in the forest! It’s not safe here!”

Kuroo was obviously angry. Scared. Guilty. A whole conversation passed between them in the space of a few moments, filled with shorthand from years of friendship. Worry over his safety. Knowledge of what Kenma would find in the forest, maybe even more knowledge than he’d discovered so far. Strength - oh, and there was the edge of guilt again.

What did Kuroo have to be guilty about?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Kuroo finally said, defeat in his voice.

Kenma wanted to ask him why, but he was afraid that Kuroo wouldn’t give him an answer. Instead, he looked away. It didn’t matter. Whatever Kuroo had done was in the past, it couldn’t - shouldn’t - matter. 

The thought that it did matter was terrifying, because this was Kuro.

Pursing his lips, Kenma found himself studying the stones again, distracted by the sheer wrongness of them. His hands itched to move the rocks so that he didn’t have to think about the conversation he should and didn’t want to have. “I am here though, Kuro,” he finally said, reaching out and picking up a squarish rock.

“Yeah well let’s just go - what are you doing?”

A puzzle. He was staring at a puzzle.

Only it wasn’t supposed to be a puzzle. 

“It got broken,” Kenma said, kneeling down as he pulled away the stones that didn’t fit. Beneath there was a flat surface with three holes arranged in a triangle. There were symbols carved into the stone near each hole, words he didn’t know. A sun, on one. Moon, on the other. And then - he didn’t know that symbol, it was like a crossed circle.

“Earth,” Kuroo murmured.

It made sense.

Well, on the one hand, it didn’t. None of this made sense. He shouldn’t be able to make sense of any of this - but it made sense anyways, because he remembered, and remembered it was all his fault. 

“I chose the wrong one,” Kenma whispered, fingers tracing the line from the sun to the earth. “I thought - we thought we were supposed to choose.”

He thought he was supposed to be the sun. There was a reason - he didn’t remember the reason, but he remembered power, laughter, and joy. Remembered a space where everything that made him stand out in a bad way at home was everything that made the world right when he was here.

“But you weren’t.” That was the green man. Issei, Kenma thought Bokuto had called him.  
“You were supposed to know. All of you were, if you were going to mess around with a place this powerful.”

“We were just kids, though.”

“Children mean something very different to us than they do to humans. Our choices have consequences, even if we are young.”

Kenma looked up as he continued.

“Families like Tetsu’s know this, take responsibility for training their young. Why didn’t your family do the same with you?”

“But - but Kenma is just a human,” Kuroo said.

“If he was only human, then the earth would not have split at his rejection of it.”

Rejection?

Oh.

Deep in his mind, things started to click into place.

“We were doing the ritual from the cave,” Kenma murmured. “Three rods, which were supposed to be taken from the sacred pool and placed here, ascendent in the stones. It was an old thing. Yukie wasn’t sure if we should do it, but Akaashi - we just looked at each other and knew we had to do it. The power was so real - mine and his and Yukie’s, it was like nothing I’d ever felt. And this, this was supposed to enhance it. Maybe. We didn’t care, didn’t think. I just raced up here, using my magic to push ahead even as Akaashi complained. And then -”

“Then?” Kuroo asked.

“Then I chose sun.”

He remembered it now. All of it. The way Yukie’s laugher had changed to fear, how Akaashi had thrown their rods up to Kenma and shouted, desperate for Kenma to make the switch. 

But it was too late.

He remembered the earth starting to crack at his feet. He remembered Bokuto descending, wings spread wide. He was late - probably hanging out with Kuroo. They’d known each other - of course, they had. Bokuto was one of the spirits who lived in the forest, along with others, so many others. There had been a spirit for every tree and hill. Kenma remembered that now, remembered the games they played, how the forest had always seemed safe.

It had seemed like home.

And then -

Everything was gone.

“You came out of the forest that day,” Kuroo said, kneeling to help Kenma clear away the stones. “Well, all three of you did. Bokuto was limping, with you in his arms. Issei was helping. I was with my dad in the garden. As soon as you crossed the boundary line of the forest, though, Bokuto collapsed, dropping you on the ground. Issei - he didn’t collapse, but he was dazed. Could barely remember his name. You and Bokuto, though, well.”

“It was a bargain,” said Bokuto. “A promise so that we could save you. We were supposed to leave and never come back.”

But they had.

“Here,” Kuroo said, handing him three rusted metal rods. “Though I’m not sure what you want to do with them now. What are we doing here, Kenma?”

Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure. He just knew he needed to do something.

“Fixing things,” murmured Kenma.

“Fixing - what? I mean, I know you’re smart, Kenma, but you don’t know anything about this. It’s not one of your video games. You can’t just press restart if you get it wrong - and wasn’t it your choice that - you know what, let’s just -”

“Hey, back off, Tetsu,” Bokuto interrupted. “You’re the one who knew all this time, and what - you just kept it from him? From all of us? Let us believe -”

The sounds of their argument became background noise in Kenma’s mind. He hated it when people fought. Hated it when Kuroo yelled, hated the fact that Bokuto was yelling. Didn’t they both know it was pointless?

Issei seemed to know.

He’d crouched down across from Kenma, hands curled in the dirt, eyes focused with a look of challenge. They reminded him of another set of eyes. Akaashi’s eyes. But Akaashi had known him, had believed in him even as they always pushed each other to greater heights.

He didn’t think Issei believed in him at all.

Not that it mattered.

He turned his attention down to the rods, studying them for clues. At first glance, they all seemed the same, and he felt a rush of despair for even thinking he could wield them to fix anything. What if Kuroo was right? What if whatever he did just fucked everything up again?

But he had to try, even if it was a bit like trying to solve a puzzle in one of his games.

Pursing his lips, he pushed away his emotions and decided to take a closer look.

The rods were all dark with rust. There were darker spots near the bottom that Kenma recognized as blood. His blood. Their blood. Characters were engraved beneath the rust, and he could see flecks of color beneath the oxidation. That made sense - they’d had color once. This blue - Kenma remembered it in Akaashi’s hand, remembered Yukie handing it to him when they’d discovered the cache in the cave below. Red for Kenma, and gold for herself. It was - 

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? What if he was wrong?

A hand closed over his wrist, and he looked up into brown eyes that still felt green.

“Why are you doing this?” Issei asked.

A thousand answers rushed through Kenma’s mind, none of them making any sense. Because it was a puzzle. Because he needed to. Because he was empty. To save Yukie and Akaashi. Because -

“I have to,” Kenma whispered.

“Even if it costs you everything?”

He stared into Issei’s eyes, seeing a sadness there that went beyond anything Kenma had ever felt.

Everything?

He looked around at the land, listening to the silence of the forest that was like a blanket beyond the sound of Bokuto and Kuroo’s shouting. It was wrong. All of it was wrong, and it was his fault. More than that though -

He was wrong.

“Yes,” he said, feeling something shift inside like a key in a lock. Focusing back on the holes in front of him, he slid the gold rod into the slot from the sun. For Yukie, who was full of light and laughter, shining bright and bringing life.

“Kenma? Kenma, what are you -”

The blue one - ah, it was cool to the touch. Akaashi, he wasn’t the moon, but sometimes he was cool, untouchable, like the night. But even more, he gave light in the darkness -

Kenma slid that one home.

“Stop - you could -”

And red for himself. Earth. There. He pressed his fingers against the quartered circle, feeling a sense of rightness unlike anything he could remember. Here, this was him. The three of them, working together.

Now everything would be all -

Everything faded away to nothingness.

~~~~~~~

Bright, everything was far too bright, and Kenma was alone.

“No, you’re not.”

The voice was petulant. No, angry - but an anger hid under a gloss of sweetness that tasted bitter in Kenma’s mouth.

“Who are you?” he asked, turning to focus on the source of the voice.

He saw a man hovering in midair, with his legs folded beneath him. Wavy brown hair topped a face that was something more than handsome, something more than beautiful.

The man pursed his lips and looked to the side. “You think flattery is going to get you somewhere after all these years?”

Kenma raised an eyebrow as he tried to process what was going on.

“A name would be nice,” he said finally.

“Oh, fine,” the man said. “You can call me the grand king under the mountain.”

Furrowing his brows, Kenma said, “It’s not really much of a mountain.”

“You’re going to get smart with me now of all times?”

The man should have been terrifying. He was powerful - Kenma could tell that much. Knew it in his bones. He remembered him from the past, suddenly - remembered the man tall and angry, yelling at Bokuto -

“You’re - Oikawa?” He remembered Yukie saying the name, reading his story, though the details escaped him. “You’re the one Bokuto made the bargain with.”

“You weren’t supposed to come back! You were supposed to leave and forget and never bother us again.”

“But I -”

“You didn’t want us anyways!”

Pain, there, underneath the anger. 

The light was fading into colors that swirled, letting Kenma see more clearly. They were in a room. A cavern. It was filled with glowing bubbles, and in each bubble he saw a shape, moving in their own light. The spirits - ah. “They’re here.”

“Well, of course!” Oikawa fumed, turning away from him to brush fingertips against a dark green bubble. “They’re all here. I couldn’t just leave them out there unprotected when you broke everything, could I? What if they got hurt? What if we got invaded? How could you leave us like this? Did you think just leaving your powers would be enough to -”

“What? I didn’t -”

“You were supposed to save us!”

Kenma balked. “What?”

“The three of you,” Oikawa murmured, wandering between the bubbles with care. “The perfect balance. Our light, and our night, and your humanity - living breathing clay - we needed you. Needed you to hold those mages that want to pervert everything and twist it into their own image, and those machines -”

“Machines?” Kenma asked, unconsciously slipping his hand into his pocket to touch his phone.

“Yes! Like that!”

Kenma frowned. “But - I program these machines.”

“Exactly! And your best friend is one of those - ugh, you brought him here, I can already feel his magic trying to creep down into me, reshaping everything -”

Best friend - “Kuro?”

“Well, obviously.”

Ok, Kuroo was a mage. That actually made sense - well, at least as much sense as anything else had. But what didn’t make sense was - “Wouldn’t I be the last person you wanted close to you, if all this was true?”

“Of course not,” Oikawa said, turning to look at him with eyes full of power. “If you were one with us, then it would be part of us as well, and we could grow. After all, it’s not a threat to us if it’s ours, is it?”

It made -

It shouldn’t make sense.

But in some odd way it did.

“So you can talk to them,” Kenma said, translating past Oikawa’s words to what he meant. “So you can understand them.”

“So we aren’t lost because our words no longer exist,” Oikawa agreed, looking forlorn for a moment before he turned angry again. “But it doesn’t matter because you don't want us anyway.”

“What?” Kenma said, shaking his head. “No, wait - I wasn’t rejecting you. I just - I thought it was a game -”

“You just wanted the power, we saw you when you touched us -”

“I was a stupid kid!” he said, stomach souring as he remembered. “I just - I wanted to beat Akaashi, that’s all.”

“You wanted to destroy everything!”

“No, I didn’t! I just wanted to win,” Kenma said, looking down and to the side. “I didn’t want to destroy anything. We didn’t - can’t you read my mind like you were before? I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to abandon you. I didn’t want to leave at all.”

It was truer than he’d realized when the words slipped out of his mouth.

This space - it had been home. A dream of a place. Somewhere he fit in, where he could thrive. Where he wasn’t afraid of anything except leaving.

“But you did leave,” Oikawa said.

“Not all of me,” said Kenma. “A part ... you kept a part of me here, didn’t you.”

Now, Oikawa was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Well,” he finally said. “We couldn’t just leave ourselves defenseless, could we?”

“You kept my power, you said,” Kenma murmured, thinking of the cat with the golden eyes. “And you kept my memories. And Akaashi and Yukie - you kept them spellbound too, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

There was such youth and inexperience in that voice that Kenma wasn’t sure how to respond. This man - this creature - he was powerful beyond what Kenma could comprehend, that much was obvious. But there was a helplessness here as well.

A part of Kenma thought that he should be angry about all that had happened, but the emotion wouldn’t come. Instead, he moved forward, reaching a hand up to brush against Oikawa’s, looking up into eyes that held a swirl of darkness and power and light.

“Well,” Kenma said, “Then let’s figure out how to fix it together.”

Frowning, Oikawa tilted his head to the side. “You’d have to let me in,” he finally said. “Will you let me learn to understand?”

Kenma nodded. “You can,” he said. “It’s why I’m here.”

And then he was swallowed up by the swirls of color that Oikawa called eyes.

~~~~

The others were waiting for them when they finally came out of the cave.

Bokuto came at Kenma in a rush, hands hovering like he wanted to touch and make sure Kenma was alright. “You just disappeared on us!” he shouted.

“Sorry,” Kenma said, ducking his head. Loud. Bokuto was loud. And big. And warm.

Kuroo held back, eyes full of questions that Kenma knew he’d have to answer. 

Later.

For now, he just gave Kuroo a smile, trying to convey without words that he was ok.

He could see Kuroo more clearly now, see the lines of power and possibility crackling just over his arms and in his eyes. A mage, Oikawa had said. Someone whose power was foreign to the elements of the forest. To Kenma, though, he was just Kuro, and even when Kuro was strange he could never be a stranger.

“Oikawa-san,” said Issei, bowing his head. “It is good to see you again.”

“Man, you have to relax,” called a voice from behind Kenma.

That was a person Kenma had been introduced to as Hanamaki, whose name had quickly changed to Makki-chan as Oikawa had started to process everything he’d learned from melding with Kenma’s mind. 

Kenma had learned a lot too, of course. For instance, he knew that Issei was a tree spirit - one of the oldest - and that Hanamaki was a flowering vine that grew in a network all over the forest. He’d stolen Kenma’s phone at some point and vowed not to give it back until he’d “devoured the electric vines that humans called the internet.”

It wasn’t something that Kenma wanted to argue about.

After all, he had enough on his plate waking up Yukie and -

“Akaashi?”

“Ah. Hello, Bokuto-san. How have you been?”

“That’s Akaashi?”

Kenma looked over at Kuroo, brow furrowing at the wideness in his eyes. Then he looked over at Akaashi. Why would -

Oh. Now that the challenge in Akaashi’s eyes wasn’t directed at him, it was easy to see the shape of Akaashi’s full power flowing like moonlight and darkness over him. 

“You are the mage?” Akaashi asked, voice cool. “The one whose family has claimed land next to us? Kuroo-san, I believe?”

“Ah -”

“Now, Akaashi, be nice,” Yukie chided. “We’re all going to get along, right? Besides, he’s Kenma’s best friend, and Kenma said he cooks.”

Pursing his lips, Akaashi considered. “Cooks?”

Kenma nodded, trying to decipher the look on Kuroo’s face. It was guarded, but there was something there - some longing. He was suddenly reminded of a quote up on Kuroo’s wall - _I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night._

Hmm. That had potential.

“Speaking of food, I’m hungry,” Kenma finally said, ignoring the shocked looks he got from both Kuroo and Bokuto. “Maybe - lunch?”

“Lunch,” Kuroo murmured, looking from Akaashi to Oikawa and then over all the others that were crowding around him. More and more spirits were spilling out of the cavern entrance, most wandering off to find their old homes. A few stuck around, tugging at Yukie’s hands or staring up at Bokuto’s wings. “Ah, I don’t really have enough for -”

“It’s alright, Kuro,” said Kenma, ducking his head with a smile. “Not for all of us.”

“And we’ll be happy to help prepare, mage-san,” Yukie said, smiling and walking forward to lock arms with a very surprised Kuroo. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Eh?” Kuroo asked, turning and looking over at Akaashi again. “Uh, alright.”

Interesting.

Bokuto stepped closer to Kenma. “Is it alright if I - uh - I mean -”

Reaching up, Kenma tugged at Bokuto’s sleeve, watching as the worry in the man’s golden eyes melted into curiosity. “Of course,” Kenma said, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the smile that lit up Bokuto’s face. “You’re always welcome, Kou.”

“Oh,” said Bokuto.

There were memories here that Kenma didn’t recall. It was possible that he would never remember everything - but that was alright. He could make more.

“Well then,” Oikawa said, brushing his hair out of his eyes and turning to look back at a spiky-haired man who’d stayed half-hidden in the shadows, “Shall we?”

The man stepped forward, a scowl softening as he looked around at the clearing before them. “Well,” he said, voice as full of the gravel that Kenma knew he embodied, “It’s been a while, but I suppose.”

“Great, Iwa-chan!”

The scowl was back. “Stop it with that stupid -”

“Aww, but you’ll love it! Just like you love -”

“Shut up!”

Akaashi laughed.

It was low, but Kenma caught it. He looked up into green eyes. Eyes that had held challenges, eyes that he now remembered from the moment he first discovered he had power. Eyes he never wanted to forget again.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Kenma murmured.

“You’re the one who left,” Akaashi countered, a wry smile covering his lips. “Though I knew if I just kept playing, eventually you’d find your way back to us.”

An echo of a song slipped through Kenma’s mind, and he nodded, flexing his fingers like they were the paws of a cat. “Thank you.”

Akaashi nodded, leaving words unspoken until another day. 

Or at least another moment.

After all, right now Kuroo had promised them lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on tumblr at [kaiyouchan.tumblr.com](http://kaiyouchan.tumblr.com) ^_^ 
> 
> Real life has been slamming me pretty hard lately, but I'm still alive, writing when I can!


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